


Fire Red and Sapphire Blue

by SeptemberMorningBell



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Angst, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mila and Georgi as Jesse and James, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vicchan (Yuri!!! on Ice) Dies, Viktor Nikiforov is a gigantic nerd, Yuuri and Viktor are the same age because teenagers, and all the ridiculousness that implies, pokemon youtube is now a thing, reckless abuse of italics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 03:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18930121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptemberMorningBell/pseuds/SeptemberMorningBell
Summary: Yuuri, heartbroken after the death of his beloved Growlithe Vicchan, swears off pokemon training forever and heads home to the island of Hasetsu. Caught in a storm along the road, he spots a mysterious pokemon, who leads him to a dying vulpix deep in the woods and offers him a choice...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You: Hey, September, when are you gonna finish Stop, Rewind, Re--
> 
> Me: LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY NEW POKEMON/YOI AU
> 
> You: You have like five unfinished wips--
> 
> Me: P O K E M O N

It was raining on the day Yuuri said his final goodbyes to Vicchan. A slow, grey mist of rain that left a chill on everything it touched, seeping patiently through coat and shirt and skin until it settled deep into the bone. And even that was nothing, _nothing_ , compared to the cold void at his side where Vicchan used to be.

The very best pokemon, Vicchan. The best of any growlithe—the unevolved form of League Champion Viktor Nikiforov’s legendary arcanine Makkachin— pointedly noisy, uncontrollably hyperactive, and undeniably loyal. A wildfire in canine form. And now just…ashes.

Yuuri blinked away the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, before dropping his head and letting them fall unhindered. Vicchan deserved his tears, if nothing else. God knows he hadn’t deserved his death, or the failure of a trainer who’d let it happen.

“I love you, Vicchan,” Yuuri said. His voice trembled, like waves braced to dash themselves to pieces on the rock. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I…I’m giving up training. I won’t be the death of another pokemon.”

He turned away at long last, ready to leave the tower, the empty place at his side an aching abscess, and nothing to carry with him but ashes and the sound of rain. 

 

And so, Yuuri walked. Through the quiet, shrouded streets of Lavender Town, down the road and away, no direction but the driving need to move, he walked, and thought of home.

Hasetsu Island. Warm sun and sand and a thousand twisting caves running beneath the surface, caves he’d explored from end to end with Vicchan at his side. His mother, smile bright behind a tea tray, her chansey chivvying the visitors to their inn to comfortable rooms and steaming bowls of katsudon. His father, a caterpie on each shoulder, leaning on the counter and cheering wildly at the latest league match. His sister, freshly home from her own pokemon journey, chiding him in her affectionately caustic way for putting his own off for so long.

_I wish I’d put it off forever_ , he thought bitterly. _Maybe if I had, Vicchan would have…Vicchan would have…_

And finally, unable to bear it any longer, Yuuri crumbled to the muddy ground and sobbed until all his tears were gone.

 

Time passed, and he stumbled back to his feet, chest hollow. His grief was still an open wound, raw and bleeding, but dramatic rain-drenched breakdowns are not exactly sustainable long-term, and, more immediately, the rain that had once been a soft, atmospheric mist was turning quickly into a deluge. 

Reluctantly, he started off down the road.

“If I was Viktor Nikiforov, I wouldn’t be slogging through a downpour on my way home from a funeral,” he muttered, some half an hour down the way, scrunching his face up and pulling his growlithe eared hat further down over his own ears, his jeans uncomfortably muddy and his glasses impossible to see through. “The rain would have cleared for Viktor Nikiforov. Oh, and a single ray of sunlight would have broken through the clouds, metaphorically illuminating his resolve to continue or…something. Anyway, it would have been very symbolic.” He squinted through the rapidly darkening evening. “But _nooo_. Yuuri Katsuki gets mud.” He stopped, head low, gritting his teeth. “I deserve mud.”

_Vicchan._

The rain would have cleared for Viktor Nikiforov, because Viktor Nikiforov would never be so awful, so careless, such an absolute failure that he’d get his pokemon killed in his first major battle as a trainer.

If Yuuri ever saw that smug ‘Team Rocket’ whatever pokemon abuser again he was going to…he was going to…

He stamped angrily, lost traction on the rain slick ground, and landed face-first in a puddle.

Now extremely wet and even muddier than he had thought possible, he struggled miserably back to his feet, pulling off his now completely useless glasses and tucking them in his pack. _Oh, give it up. You’ll probably just freeze up and cry, same as always. Stupid useless cowardly Yuuri, can’t fight a battle because you shut down the minute things get difficult like some kind of—_

Something flashed in the corner of his vision. Yuuri blinked.

_Aaaaand now I’m hallucinating. Oh well. At least it's very on brand for the Yuuri Katsuki disaster train._

Except…there. Another flash of blue, this time accompanied by a gust of bitter cold wind and the faintest prescience of snow.

Yuuri squinted into the rain blurred darkness, searching frantically for the slightest trace of movement, taking slow, careful steps backward. He might still be hallucinating, but…feral pokemon abounded in the wilds, and without one of his own…well, only a fool ventured out alone, which put him right at the top of the stupidity league.

He slowed. Scrubbed his face. Stared into the forest.

_Flash. Gust._

Closer.

_Flash. Gust._

Close enough to touch.

He spun, launching into a frantic sprint.

_Flash. Gust._

The wind howled. Rain turned to sleet. Mud turned to ice, and Yuuri’s feet slid out from under him.

 

He rose to the sight of red eyes in a haze of blue and white and purple, a graceful silhouette framed in lightning flashes and ice. Yuuri stared, too full of wonder to remember to be afraid.

The creature lowered its head, eyes boring into his, and he knew without a doubt that he was being measured. What for, he might never know. The outcome, though—well, that he had no doubt. He knew his own mettle. 

At least he’d see Vicchan again. And so, he met those deep red eyes with a level stare of his own, and waited to die. 

Death never came. Instead followed retreat; the great pokemon stepped back and turned as though to go, before looking over its shoulder and making an impatient gesture.

_Come,_ it said, the words the chime of bells in his mind, emerging in his thoughts without consideration for anything as mundane as ears. _There is someone in need of you._

Yuuri, dazed with relief and wonder, scrambled to his feet and followed like a man in a dream.

 

The great pokemon led him off the road, deep into the surrounding woods, the gently corruscating glow haloing its form Yuuri’s only guide in the waterlogged darkness. An eternity, then, trailing a will'o'wisp through a storm that never seemed to lessen, the trees creaking and snapping in the wind and the path beneath his feet made doubly treacherous by mud and pooling rain. Still, it never occurred to him to turn away, the creature’s words still echoing in his mind like village bells ringing the hours.

_Come. There is someone in need of you._

_Someone in need of you._

Yuuri could no more turn back than he could command the rain.

 

Time passed, some endless, incalculable time, and the creature came to a sudden stop. Yuuri, lost in a reverie of years spent hiding from his responsibilities in the Hasetsu dance studio, blessedly warm as he swirled between curls of Vicchan’s fire in a dance that only the denizens of that tiny volcano-wrought island remembered, barely managed to retain his footing.

_Here_ , the creature said. Yuuri stared wide eyed into the darkness, searching frantically for what—or who—he was supposed to be seeing. But there was nothing to be glimpsed, just the gleam of the great pokemon’s aurora and the silhouette of trees, a heap of leaves on the ground and—

Not leaves. A pokemon. 

Yuuri scrambled forward, dropping to his knees and hunching over to shield the trembling creature from the rain. Round green eyes opened, slow and weak, gazing up with the faintest gleam of hope from behind the fan of five waterlogged tails.

“It’s a vulpix,” Yuuri said blankly. “What're you doing here? Vulpix don’t live in forests.” He stared for a moment, and then gave a sharp shake of his head. “Not important. No. Okay.” He showed the vulpix his hands, gloved but empty. “Uh, hi there? I--Well, the glowing…thing…brought me. I’m here to…oh. Oh no. You’re pretty badly hurt, aren’t you? Ah. We should get you to a pokemon center…probably yesterday.” He looked around frantically. “You’re…I’m going to have to pick you up, okay? I don’t have any pokeballs. I’ll have to carry you. To the pokemon center. Which is. Somewhere. I don’t even know anymore. Just don’t set me on fire, please?”

The vulpix stared at him for a long moment, before letting out a very soft sigh and closing its eyes.

“Is that a yes, or…oh, never mind. Let’s just—”

He inhaled sharply before reaching down and easing his hands under the little pokemon’s trembling form. It was warm—vulpix were born with an internal fire, one that burned til they died—but not as warm as it should have been, not warm enough to survive. Not even close.

He looked at the shining creature who had led him here, hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, an inexplicable sense of betrayal churning in his gut. “You brought me here so I could watch another pokemon die?”

_No._ Not wind chimes any longer. Church bells, with the weight of centuries in their song. _I brought you here so that this pokemon might live._

“There’s no time!” Yuuri half-screamed, the vulpix a shivering weight in his arms as he hunched over, his shout barely breaking over the roar of the wind. “Its temperature is too—its flame is going out! All the Nurse Joys in Kanto couldn’t—they couldn’t—I wasn’t fast enough to save Vicchan and I can’t save—I can’t save—I can’t—”

A muzzle, cold as ice and softer than snow, touched his cheek, tears flashing into crystal where they touched white fur.

_There will be time, if you are willing to give it yours. The flame of your life, to strengthen its. Enough time, enough fire, if you are lucky._

Yuuri looked up, into deep red eyes and aurora glow. “And if I’m not?”

_Then you both will die._

Yuuri stared down at the vulpix in his arms, a trembling bundle of matted fur and blood and cold, too cold, too small, too fragile, not enough fuel in the world to sustain a flame that frail and _him_ , too slow, too weak, too _not enough_ to ever make it in time, not enough for Vicchan and not enough for—

He met the vulpix’ eyes, green and agonized and still, still burning. Still alive. 

He set his jaw.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

A cold, wet nose touched his forehead, and then, sudden and sharp, a massive, graceful paw slammed into his chest just over his heart, sending him sprawling backwards. Wide eyed, he stared, as strands of gold fire leapt from the place that paw had touched, wrapping around the vulpix in his arms, feeding the flame in its heart.

The great pokemon watched for moment, before turning and bounding away into the forest, faster than Yuuri could rise.

_Go, human,_ came the last, lingering words, growing fainter with each syllable. _Follow your star. And may your feet be swifter than the north wind._

“Wait!” Yuuri called. “I don’t—”

He looked around frantically, breath coming in short little gasps. It took him a full minute to realize the rain had stopped, and another half of one to spot the break in the clouds above and the faint constellation of stars visible beyond. One break. One constellation. 

The Volcano. 

Fire. Vulpix. Hasetsu. _Vicchan._

_Follow your star._

Yuuri ran.

 

It took him far too long to make it out of the forest, precious minutes that might have been years slipping away as he stumbled over tree roots and shoved his way through water-drenched foliage, the little pokemon in his arms gasping and shivering as he ran as fast as his firedance trained feet would carry him. It was weak, too weak, by the time he reached the road, but there was no way Yuuri could stop now, not now, not with the vulpix clutched to his chest losing strength with every heart beat and the memory of another pokemon fading to ashes in his arms.

_Take mine,_ Yuuri’s mind screamed, searching, scrabbling for that channel the mysterious pokemon had opened between them, the flow of fire that kept the vulpix’ flame alive. _I’ll make it! I promise. I’ll save you. Take mine. Take mine. Take mine._

The going was easier, now, paved road instead of roots and uneven terrain and a clear direction from the signs along the way, but it was still too slow, much too slow, and he, pouring his life into the vulpix, heat leaching away with every thump of his feet on the ground, was losing his own strength much too quickly to ever make…

Something caught his eye.

A young boy, maybe thirteen at most, sat by the side of the road, tugging furiously on his damp shoelaces and spitting like an angry cat. That was not what had interested Yuuri. What interested Yuuri, and what ignited for the first time a faint glow of hope in his chest, was the skateboard tossed carelessly at his side.

He made a beeline for it, swooping in and grabbing it up before the boy could react.

“Sorry!” he called, tossing it down, still running, and jumping on. “I just—I need to borrow this.”

“What the— _Oi! Jerkface! That’s mine! Give it back!”_

Yuuri waved an awkward hand over his shoulder, kicking off and widening the gap between him and the skateboard’s rightful owner even further. “I’m so sorry! Really! I’ll return it once I get to the pokemon center!”

“You’ll return it once I beat you to pulp after I catch you, you steaming pile of rhyhorn crap!”

“I’ll probably be dead by then, so, uh, good luck!” Yuuri called, hitting a downslope and picking up speed, vulpix cradled in his arms and balance surprisingly steady for someone who’d never actually ridden a skateboard before. “Okay, Vulpix,” he said, wobbling slightly, more from exhaustion than anything else. His fingers, clutching the pokemon's red gold fur, felt very cold. “It’s you and me. We’ve got this. We can do this. We can definitely not die before we reach the next pokemon center. Right? We can do that.” 

The vulpix in his arms gave a ragged gasp. Yuuri narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t give up now. I won’t let you. Not after we’ve made it this far. We’re making it to the pokemon center and you are going to live a long full life full of…” Yuuri took a shuddering breath, struggling to keep his balance as they raced down the road, one foot kicking behind him as the lights of the pokemon center came finally into view. His legs burned, his breath coming in despearate gasps and, god, he was so _cold_ ,“…full of katsudon. I know you don’t know what that is, but if you knew you wouldn’t let yourself die because then you’d never eat katsudon again and it would be _very_ sad and I would be very sad because I’ve kind of got attached to you in the last hour or two and I swore, I swore I wasn’t going to get attached to a pokemon again but I…" Closer now. Nearly there. Just a little further."Stupid mystical glowy jerkemon can’t leave me alone and now…and now…” 

Yuuri smiled down at the vulpix in his arms, the skateboard slowing to a slow, wobbly roll. 

“I think I’ll call you katsudon,” he said, and dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.

 

 

_Beep._

The vulpix was watching. Tails tucked around its small body, it watched, heat radiating from the flame in its heart that still somehow burned, thanks to the boy lying motionless in the bed beside it.

_Beep._

Humans didn’t have a heartfire, the vulpix knew. They had hearts, yes, and blood, and a thousand different mechanical pieces, all tick tocking away in the terrible damp with no fire to give them life. Humans, in the end, were water. Not fire. Not life. 

Except somehow, this one was. How else would the vulpix be here, safe from the rain and the cruelty of the other humans, the ones who had left it there wounded, its own flame burning brighter than it ever had?

_Beep._

Humans had no heartfire. But a human had kept the vulpix’ alight, long after it should have gone out. In a storm that could have snuffed a moltres, a human had burned hot and bright enough for the both of them. 

_Beep._

Humans had no heartfire.

_Beep._

This one did.

_Beep._

The vulpix would make sure it never went out.

_Beep._

 

_Beep._

 

_Beep._

 

Yuuri opened his eyes. 

Something wet touched his face. Mind drug-heavy and hazed, he looked around, trying to figure out what, exactly—

A small, delicate tongue swiped from his chin to his hairline, and the question was answered.

“Vulpix,” he said. “Oh. Wow. A vulpix! Adorable. Fire pokemon best pokemon, everyone knows.” He nodded gravely, before squinting at the room around him. “Hello? Is…is this anyone’s vulpix? Can I cuddle it? It looks cuddly. I want to cuddle it.”

A vaguely human shape appeared in his vision, before coalescing into the familiar form of one of the innumerable Nurse Joys. “It’s your vulpix, silly,” she said. “You came in with it! It was in very bad shape, too; you shouldn’t let your pokemon battle to that point—oh, what am I doing. You’ve been very sick. I can scold you later.”

“I came in with—” A sudden rush of memory, of trailing an aurora through a forest and running back, a dying vulpix in his arms. Of collapsing, just a bare few feet from the pokemon center entrance. “Oh. I did. We…we made it.”

“Vulpix!”

Yuuri chuckled softly. “We certainly did.”

The nurse fiddled with some piece of medical equipment, which gave a sudden whir before settling into quiet beeps. “You said it’s name was Katsu—katsudon? When we brought you in. You were very adamant about that fact.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Yuuri squinted up at the ceiling, white tiles endemic to pokemon centers everywhere. “That sounds like something I would do.”

“Vulpix.”

Nurse Joy petted its head. “This sweet little guy hasn’t left your side the whole time you’ve been out. Well, as soon as we got it fixed up. It nearly knocked over a whole squad of chansey trying to get to you.” She smiled at him. “You must be a very good trainer, to have your pokemon love you so much.”

Yuuri blinked, trying to clear away sudden tears. “No, see…I’m not…my growlithe…” He sighed. “I’ve given up training. I wasn’t any—”

“Vul- _pix_!”

“I think Katsudon disagrees with you.”

Yuuri gave the vulpix perched on his chest a hard look. “Well, if Katsudon knew what happened to my last pokemon he wouldn’t be so adamant.”

“Vulpix. Pix. Vulpix vulpix. _Vulpix._ ”

“I—”

“Vulpix.”

Yuuri stared for a moment, at the bright green eyes gazing down into his own, still burning, still brilliantly alive. Very, very slowly, like the sunrise after a long stormy night, a smile spread across his face. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

“Vulpix,” Katsudon said, and settled down in the crook of his arm with a pleased little huff, the warmth of his heartfire almost visible in the air around him.

Yuuri smiled, lying back on the pillows, and fell into the first good sleep he’d had since Vicchan had died.


	2. The Road to Viktor-y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri, health recovered and once again set in his resolve to become a Pokemon Master, leaves the pokemon center near Lavender Town and heads into the unknown, Katsudon at his side. What peril and providence await our brave heroes in these forests? We’re about to find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a storm of angst, here's a sunny day for all of you.
> 
> Plus, the introduction of our villainous duo of Team Rocket footsoldiers, hellbent on stealing rare pokemon, and, of course, the blue to Yuuri's red, the moon to his sun, the silver to his gold...a very smitten Viktor Nikiforov.

“Duun dun dun…dun duuun dundun dun—”

“Vulpix, vulpiiix—”

“Dun duuun dundun dun—”

“Vuuul-pix vul vulpix—”

“Dun dun…you know, Katsudon, it’s a good thing we can carry a tune, or this whole being lost thing would be even worse than it is.”

“Vulpix.”

Yuuri sighed, adjusting his glasses as he stared around him in a vain hope of spotting some kind of signage. Or a landmark. Or at the very least some nebulous hint that he was heading in the right direction.

_You’d think that with all the trainers tramping through this forest there’d be, you know, an actual trail._

But no. Just endless trees, and the occasional passing caterpie.

_I guess that mystery pokemon isn’t going to show up and light my way again, either._

The thought was tinged with awe, and a faint, lingering sense of unreality. That desperate rain-drenched night seemed like a dream, now, in the clear light of a bright afternoon, only the vulpix trotting at his side to prove it had ever happened. And yet…

“Someone has to know what that thing was,” he said. He scuffed a foot in the dirt. There were more pressing matters at the moment, like, “Does this forest ever end?” and “will I die if I eat those berries?” and “Is it possible to be so covered in grime that I turn into a human kakuna?” 

“Does this look like a trail to you?”

“Vulpix.”

Yuuri blew out an exasperated puff of air. “No, I didn’t really think so either.”

_At least it isn’t raining this time._

He glanced nervously at the sky. Blue and cloudless, a late spring sun beaming down through the trees, perfectly innocuous—but thoughts like ‘at least it isn’t raining’ may as well be a downpour charm. Pure narrative imperative, in fact.

Luckily, Yuuri’s personal rain cloud seemed to be otherwise occupied today.

“I guess I could catch a caterpie,” he said, squinting doubtfully at a particularly scrawny specimen. “It might know the way out.”

Katsudon shook its head with a pointed “Vulpix.” 

Yuuri grinned. “What, are you worried you’ll lose?”

“Vulpix _vul_ pix.”

“No, you’re right; I wouldn’t want to clean caterpie silk off your fur either.” He smiled slightly, remembering a particularly messy incident involving Vicchan and six of his father’s very irate caterpie.

_Vicchan._

The thought of his growlithe was a poison needle to the chest, a sharp stab of pain followed by the deep, lingering ache of grief that would never heal. But on its tail came resolve, now. He’d become a pokemon master, like he’d always promised. He’d overcome the paralyzing anxiety that had held him back. He’d become the new champion the Indigo League. And he’d do it all for Vicchan.

[And if he happened to run into the bastard who’d killed him along the way, well…getting arrested for battery was a small price to pay for justice.]

_And,_ a treacherous little voice in the back of his mind added, _if you beat Viktor Nikiforov in the league championships, he’ll_ have _to notice you._

He quashed the thought. He definitely didn’t have a crush on League Champion Viktor Nikiforov. No. He just admired his training abilities. And his eyes. Because they reminded him of the ocean around Hasetsu, of course, a perfectly reasonable reaction for a boy far from home. And his gorgeously long silver hair, which he was only interested in because what kind of magical hair care routine did he use to keep it so shiny, perfectly natural curiosity, and did it smell like berries like he’d always imagined—

“Nope,” Yuuri said. “We are _not_ going down that road today.”

“Vulpix?”

“Nothing.”

Katsudon gave him a very suspicious side eye for a moment before sitting back on its haunches and batting at his leg with a paw.

“Eh?” He stopped, looking down. “Is something…oh. You want me to carry you.”

“Vulpix.”

“You know, you _could_ go in your pokeball.”

Katsudon stuck out a small pink tongue and shook its head vehemently.

“Of course I find the only pokemon in the world who doesn’t like pokeballs,” Yuuri muttered. “Well, I guess I can carry you.” He held out his arms. “Come on, then.” 

“Vulpix!” Katsudon leapt into his arms before scrambling up onto his shoulder, tails spilling over his backpack as it sniffed the air.

“Alright. Can we keep going now? I really want to find our way out of here before it gets dark.”

“Pix pix.”

“Okay, but if you start a wildfire, I’m blaming you.”

“Piiix.”

 

Viktor was…bored. And wasn’t that a stupid thing to think, right at the critical juncture of a pokemon battle, his vaporeon Aria curled around itself to block the lightning bolt his challenger’s voltorb blasted in a last ditch attempt to turn the tides of competition? But the thought persisted, intruding itself on the ice sharp focus of his mind as he called out directions to his pokemon.

The voltorb paused, charging up its next move, and Viktor seized the opportunity to end this quickly.

“Aria, take down.”

And that was that. Another battle won, another reeling opponent soothing his dazed pokemon, another round of applause from the inevitable audience. Seventeen years old, and he’d already hit his peak.

Viktor was bored, but he wasn’t cruel, so he acknowledged the acclaim with trademark wink and a toss of his hair before crossing over to his opponent and offering his hand.

“Good match,” he said. It hadn’t been, really, just the overeager determination of a green trainer out to make his name, but there was no harm in being courteous. “Your voltorb really packs a punch!” He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “If you work with it, you should be able to get its base shock strong enough that you don’t really need to rely on big attacks that need a charging time. Then you can avoid leaving openings for quicker pokemon to take advantage of.”

_Like I just did. Like any half competent trainer would do. And you’ve been working with that voltorb long enough that you should know that,_ he added mentally, but that seemed a little like rubbing salt in the wound, so the thought remained just that.

Seeing the grateful expression on the boy’s round, eager face, he was glad he’d kept his mouth shut. _He_ might be silly enough to be bored with winning, but there were plenty of young trainers who still felt the electric thrill of battle, and the pride of watching their beloved pokemon prove their strength. (The thought was tinged with slightly ironic amusement; he was well aware of his own youth. After all, one didn’t get to be the youngest champion in League history without being constantly reminded of that fact.) 

He gazed around at the gathered audience. Not much of one, really; the quiet waypoint between Saffron City and Lavender Town was too small to field more than a handful of onlookers. Just one or two staff, and those trainers who happened to be passing through—a dark haired girl and her glowering brother, a scruffy kid with a bug net over his shoulder, wide eyed and clearly thrilled, and a boy in an adorable growlithe-eared hat that Viktor absolutely _needed_ , face hidden behind the even more adorable vulpix in his arms.

Pokemon didn’t usually travel out of their pokeballs, but Viktor was very glad this one was, because it was absolutely the cutest thing he’d ever seen (besides Makkachin, of course, nothing could ever compete with his precious baby) and he needed to cuddle it immediately.

He made a beeline for Growlithe-Hat Boy, who froze like he’d been hit by a stun spore before disappearing even further behind his pokemon’s fur.

Viktor was not deterred.

“Hi!” he said, putting on his most endearing smile. And it was very endearing, he knew. “I’m Viktor! Can I pet your vulpix?”

The pokemon in question looked up at him, eyes two smooth pebbles of flawless sea glass in the russet of its face. For a moment, the graceful majesty of its future evolution shone past the sweetness of its present, and Viktor paused. Too knowing by half, that gaze was.

“You…want to pet my vulpix?” Growlithe-Hat Boy said, voice wondering, the words slightly muffled by the dark reddish-gold fur still blocking his face.

“Well, it’s very cute,” Viktor said. Honesty was the best policy, after all.

Growlithe-Hat Boy lowered his cradling arms slightly, resting his chin on his pokemon’s head, his face visible for the first time, and Viktor suddenly wished he had the excuse of a battle to explain his suddenly racing heart. 

Vulpix’ trainer was _cute_. Very cute. Possible even more so than his pokemon.

Well. He was Viktor Nikiforov. League Champion. Trainer extraordinaire. Voted Kanto’s most beautiful two years in a row. Absolutely not the kind to make a fool of himself in front of incredibly cute boys, okay?

…Right?

 

At least he wasn’t bored anymore.

 

 

This was not in the plan. No, this was not even _perpendicular_ to the plan. This, was, in fact, the complete polar unimaginable opposite of the plan. 

He was supposed to meet Viktor Nikiforov(!) in a championship match, with at least eight badges to his name and probably more than _one_ pokemon, even if Viktor Nikiforov(!) did happen to currently be cooing over said adorable little traitor. He was not supposed to stumble across him in a backwater waypoint three days after a fussing Nurse Joy had reluctantly released him from the hospital, covered in a forest’s worth of grime, with a brand new, extremely opinionated vulpix and not a single badge to his name.

And, if by some unholy freak of chance that should happen, Viktor Nikiforov(!) was _definitely_ not supposed to catch him staring at his gorgeou—his skillful handling of his pokemon, yes, that was all, purely professional admiration— and hone in on him like a spearow spotting a particularly delicious looking caterpie.

Then he’d asked to pet Katsudon, which—Yuuri really should have expected. Viktor Nikiforov was a well known snuggler of anything even remotely cuddly and many things that were not, and Katsudon was obviously well above that admittedly low bar. 

Besides, it wasn’t as though he was in any way _hurt_ that Viktor was more interested in his pokemon than in him. They were both trainers. Professionals. It was perfectly reasonable for him to be curious about what was, by all pokedex accounts, not a particularly common pokemon or one easy to catch, not that he’d actually _caught_ one, per se…

Oh well. If Viktor Nikiforov was going to insist on fussing over Katsudon, there was only one reasonable course of action.

“If Katsu allows it, sure,” he said, trying very, very hard not to sound to enthusiastic. Cool. Calm. Collected. The sort of person someone like Viktor would be happy to sit around and swap training tips with. Maybe phone numbers. (Not for any personal reasons, of course. Strictly professional. Pokemon talk only.) 

Not an overanxious disaster. Not… _Yuuri._

He would ask about Viktor’s pokemons’ food regimen. That was a good topic. A safe topic. 

“I like your hair,” he blurted instead.

_Aaaand…Yuuri Katsuki fails again. Cue hail of tomatoes._

This was not going according to plan _at all_.

 

“Everything is going exactly according to plan.” Georgi folded his arms, nodding with evident self approval. “Just as I planned it would.”

Mila peered out from a screen of bushes, binoculars pressed to her face, brilliant red hair concealed under an impromptu camouflage of leaves, glue, and one of Georgi’s many berets.

“Ssssh,” she said. “I’m conducting reconnaissance.”

“Why? He’s literally right there.”

“Georgi, you can’t carry out a top secret surprise ambush without _reconnaissance_. It’s illegal.”

“We’re Team Rocket. I thought illegal was our thing.”

“Yeah. _Criminal_ illegal. But we’re running under Ambush Law now.”

“What?”

“You know, Ambush Law. The rules of engagement. Fight or flight, kill or be killed. _Ambush Law._ ” 

“I’m not engaging Nikiforov!” Georgi scowled across the clearing from behind his own concealing screen of foliage, to where Nikiforov stood cooing over a rather small vulpix in the arms of its clearly starstruck trainer. “I’m straight.”

“Ambush law doesn’t care about your personal problems,” Mila said, raising her binoculars once more. “We’re in the jungle now, Georgi.”

“…This is a forest.”

“Forest, jungle, what’s the difference?”

“Quite a lot, actually.”

The third member of their troupe, dopey eyed and clearly just catching on the conversation, added its thoughts, such as they were. “There’s…Nikiforov.”

“We know, Slowbro,” Mila said. Exasperated barely began to describe her expression. “We got here half an hour ago. He had a pokemon battle. He won, by the way.”

Georgi sighed and wiped a hand across his face. It came away sticky with sweat and eyeliner. “I really don’t know why the boss put him in charge.”

“Best not to question the boss’ decisions.”

“Why? Ambush Law again?”

“Noo. ‘Not getting sliced to bits by a half-feral scyther and our bodies dumped in the deepest, darkest part of the ocean’ law.”

Georgi looked slightly green. “But I can’t swim.”

Mila pulled away from her binoculars and stared for a moment, before shaking her head and sitting back on her heels. “Is the machine ready yet?”

“What? Oh. Yeah. Charged up and ready to go since…about ten minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this?”

“I did. You told me to stop interrupting your reconnaissance.”

Mila sighed. “Well, never mind. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“I don’t think Slowbro is—”

“Just leave it. It’ll catch up eventually.”

“But—”

“You keep up or you get left behind,” Mila snapped. “We’re a fast moving strike force, flying on the wings of chaos. No time for contemplation. In and out.” She made a swift chopping motion with one hand. “Just like that.”

“Uh, if you say so.”

Mila nodded, and scooted back into the concealing forest to take her place on the top of their shiny new SuperDuperPokeHoover MkI(tm). Viktor Nikiforov—and his wondrously rare, _valuable_ pokemon—would never see it coming. 

“ _Ambush Law,_ ” she whispered, satisfied.

 

_”I like your hair.”_

The sentence hung in the air, pausing the conversation and its participants like an ice beam from a particularly impulsive blastoise. Not for the same reasons, of course. Viktor, for his part, was…well, Viktor was much too busy watching the sudden blush spread across Growlithe-Hat Boy’s face (and, whoops, he definitely should have asked his name, that was how conversations were supposed to go, right?), starting from his nose and cheeks and colouring all the way to the tips of his ears in what was a truly impressive shade of red.

_Adorable._

Before he could say anything, though, possibly “I like your face” or “What are your plans for tomorrow and do they involve going on a date with me?”, Growlithe-Hat Boy suddenly spun on his heel and disappeared off into the surrounding forest with a shocking turn of speed, only a babble of “I’msorryI’mleavingnow” to mark his exit.

Viktor stared after him, mouth slightly open and a baffled sense of rejection taking root in his chest. He knew people tended to find him a bit…much…sometimes (and wasn’t that so _unfair_ , because he’d done his best, he’d really had, to squeeze himself into the image of ‘Viktor Nikiforov, Youngest League Champion in History’ that everyone had demanded of him, hacking off the pieces that hadn’t fit in a desperate attempt to be worthy of the name. And still, and still, like a ditto mimicking a human, the form too alien to hold, the edges of _just Viktor_ oozed out through the cracks, shattering the illusion. And every time they did…well. Disappointment. Disapproval. _Rejection._ )

Still. No one had ever _run away_ from him before. 

It hurt more than he’d expected.

“Excuse me! Hi! Viktor!” the young boy with the bug net said, bounding into his field of vision and breaking the spell with the concentrated energy of a hyper beam. “That battle was amazing! Your vaporeon—like pow! Bam! Total KO! So awesome! Can I have your autograph?”

Viktor turned, camera-perfect smile appearing on his face with the ease of long practise. “Sure! Who should I make it out to?”

“Kenjirou Mina—”

“Prepare for trouble!”

Viktor spun, Makkachin’s pokeball already in his hand. A…rather unexpected sight met his eyes. Two teens, around his age, standing back to back on top of what seemed to be a giant metal vacuum, the boy with a clearly fake rose in his hand and the girl…well, Viktor was, of course, an expert on dramatic posing and she could really do with some professional advice. Things like “if you’re going to pick a fighting stance make sure you can do it without wobbling,” and “whoever picked that outfit should be fired, preferably into the sun.”

His thoughts were interrupted by the continuation of that _ridiculous_ introduction.

“And make it double!”

“To protect the world from deforestation—”

“Devastation,” the girl hissed. “It’s devastation. We went over this.”

“Right. Right. To protect the world from devastation!”

“To unite all peoples within our nation!”

“To denounce the evils of truth and—you know, this isn’t really working for me, Mila. I’m not feeling it. Do you think we could start over?” 

“It would have been great if you could remember your lines.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…you know, Anya never corrects me like that.”

“Anya isn’t on this mission.”

The boy lifted the rose to his face and inhaled. Viktor hoped he liked the smell of plastic. “Yes. Such cruel fate, to be separated from my beloved and landed with a sadistic sand—”

The girl—Mila—ended this spiel by the simple expedient of shoving her partner off the machine they stood on. He hit the ground with a yelp. “I guess I’m going to have to do this myself. As usual.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, Nikiforov. Hand over your pokemon or I’ll take them from you! Team Rocket does not play around.”

Viktor tilted his head, eyes narrowed. Ridiculous as the two might be, he wouldn’t stand for any threat to his pokemon. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, that’s your choice,” Mila said, and flipped a switch on the machine.

Makkachin’s pokeball was ripped out of his hand with a force he hadn’t expected, and he lunged after it with a cry, diving in a desperate attempt to catch the small red and white sphere that held his first, most beloved pokemon.

He missed. 

The pokeball flew out of reach, caught in the suction from a gigantic hose, and disappeared into the unseen innards of the machine. Viktor froze.

“ _Makkachin!_ ”

And then, nightmare piled on nightmare, the rest of his pokeballs were yanked from his belt, his pokemon disappearing one by one into…into…

“Oh, don’t look like that,” Mila said. Viktor, for the first time in his life, contemplated murder. “We’re not going to hurt your precious pokemon. We’re just borrowing them! Permanently.” She looked around, measuring the rest of the trainers clustered around with vary degrees of shock and horror on their faces. “Well, I guess I’ll take the rest of yours too, while I’m at it.”

The twin trainers were the first to react, sending out their chosen pokemon with matching throws.

“Primeape, go!”

“Go, Jigglypuff!”

“Ooh,” Mila said. “A jigglypuff! Look how cute it—I mean, that won’t help you! The SuperDuperPokeHoover is programmed to account for all shapes and sizes!

“A magnificent piece of work, designed by yours truly,” her partner said, still on the ground where he’d fallen.

“Georgi, you snorlax, don’t just lay there. Get up and help me grab those pokemon!”

“You know, I’m really starting to feel like you don’t value my contributions to the—”

The dark-haired girl stepped forward, cutting him off with a sharp, “Jigglypuff, sing!”

“Sara, no, I’ll handle this,” Her brother snapped, pushing her back out of the way. “Primeape! Thrash!”

“That’s not going to help,” Mila said, and turned the hose towards them. A cascade of pokeballs shot through the air towards it and disappeared, followed in swift succession by a very startled jigglypuff and a very, very angry primeape. The vacuum hose was then turned on the boy with the bug net and the trainer Viktor had defeated earlier in quick succession.

“You can’t do that!” Sara pushed past her brother, hands curled in fists and clearly ready to fight.

“It looks like we already have.”

“Oh, really? Come down here and fight me like a girl, you…you… _thief_!”

“I mean, you’re very cute and all, but we’ve got all these great new pokemon to auction off, so…”

“Team Rocket’ll be blasting off now,” Georgi said, back on his feet and gripping onto the side of the SuperDuperPokeWhatever. “Ta ta!”

Viktor, jerked from his paralysis at the realization that he was about to lose his pokemon forever, made a last frantic dive for the machine. His arms closed around a flailing suction tube, and he gripped it tight between his arm and his chest, other hand scrabbling at the body of the thing for any part that might free the pokemon inside.

“Oh, _really_ ,” Georgi said. “Do you really think we’re going to make a pokemon stealing machine that you can just pop open?”

“This _is_ kind of annoying, though.” A boot connected with Viktor’s head. His grip slipped, but didn’t loosen entirely, and he threw a hand upward, catching the foot that was swinging forward for another kick.

The foot’s owner lost her balance, slipping backwards and landing flat on her back with a thump, but not out of action, not deterred, and she rolled over and grabbed a lever jutting out from the metal. Viktor yelped as the machine he was clinging onto gave a sudden lurch and began chugging towards the road away from the waypoint, heading for Saffron City.

“I guess Viktor Nikiforov might fetch a good price as well,” Georgi said, squinting down at him as he struggled to hold on. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to catch a champion.”

“Expect the unexpected,” Mila said, lifting herself onto her elbows and shifting to a more comfortable position. “That’s Ambush Law.”

“I feel like that might be sort of the opposite of what—”

“Hey!” someone yelled. Viktor lifted his head, peering around the silvery curve of the machine.

Growlithe-Hat Boy stood in the middle of the road, vulpix at his side.

“Oh, get out of the way,” Mila said, waving a hand. “We’re busy.”

Georgi squinted. “Shouldn’t we snatch that vulpix?”

“We’ve got Viktor Nikiforov’s pokemon. We don’t need some scrawny barbecue lighter taking up space in there too.”

The vulpix growled.

“Scary,” Mila said, wiggling her fingers. “Listen, brat, you just get out of the way and we’ll let you keep your little fire weasel, okay?”

“Oh, bite me,” Growlithe-Hat Boy said, and darted forward, vulpix keeping pace beside him.

Viktor jumped down. “Watch out for the hoses! They’ll suck up—”

But it was too late. Mila was already crouched over the control pad, directing a suddenly suctioning hose towards the little vulpix, and the rest to swipe at its trainer. Viktor moved to intercept, but there was no way he’d make it, no way at all, not from here. The heavy hoses slammed towards Growlithe-Hat Boy—

—who bent backward, swirling between the flailing arms like a dancer improvising on the beat of a song only he could hear, eyes intent and feet flashing in impossibly quick crossovers on the stone.

And _wow_. If he’d been cute before, he was gorgeous now.

Viktor _definitely_ needed his name. And his phone number. And possibly his hand in marriage.

These happy thoughts were interrupted by the realization that none of that would happen if he didn’t get his pokemon back, if he let these monsters—this ‘Team Rocket’, whatever that meant—steal the object of his affections’ vulpix as well. He turned to see if he could stop that hose, and immediately realized that it was completely unnecessary.

Growlithe-Hat Boy’s vulpix was as quick and agile as the trainer himself, darting around the suctioning end and bounding up the top of the undulating hose, dodging any attempt on Mila’s part to shake it off.

“Katsudon,” its trainer called, breathless as he flowed under a thrashing hose to the reach the squat reservoir that held Viktor and the others’ pokemon. His fingers closed on a handle that Viktor hadn’t managed to reach in his own attempt to free them. 

He paused, clearly realizing that his pokemon’s fire attacks would burn anything inside the metal shell as well as the thieves on top, before finishing his command with a resolute, “Quick attack.”

“Uh oh,” Mila said, before a vulpix skull, with all the force of that incredible speed behind it, collided with her ribs. The impact knocked her airborne, sending her flying nearly twenty feet before landing in the branches of what Viktor hoped was a particularly thorny tree.

The vulpix—Katsudon?—turned it’s attention to Georgi. Its trainer, slamming the handle with his forearm (and a very well defined forearm it was, too) in an attempt to break what Viktor strongly suspected to be a magnetic lock, glanced up and gave a sharp, “Katsu, bite.”

Georgi gave a loud yelp and jumped off the top of his machine, clearly intending to make a run for it. Katsudon was just as clearly not having it. 

It bounded off the platform and dashed after him with that same unbelievable turn of speed, catching up in five seconds flat and making its opinion of its prey firmly known. Georgi quickly followed his partner, landing upside down in a tangle of branches. 

A moment passed, and then both members of Team Rocket scrambled out of their respective perches and disappeared at a dead run into the forest.

Viktor, seeing both of the thieves out of action, ran to help Growlithe-Hat Boy as he struggled with the lock. He studied the handle for a moment, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“I think I know how to open this,” he said, and paused to dig in his backpack for…aha. There it was.

“Neodymium magnet!” He dug once more in his admittedly disorganized pack. “Gyroscope! And…copper wire!” 

“How is that going to—”

“Only way to open a magnetic lock is to cut the power,” Viktor said, winding the wire around the magnet with efficient fingers. Katsudon came trotting back, a self-satisfied expression on its vulpine face. “And, if I just get…eh, thirty should be enough, do you think? Well, we’ll see, won’t we.” He beamed. “I always wanted to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Improvised electromagnet!” He knelt down, winding more wire to affix the magnet to the gyroscope and looping the loose ends of the wires on a convenient jut on each side of the door. “Never had the chance, you know, because someone always shows up with a pikachu or a jolteon just in the nick of time and Yakov always gets mad anyhow because I’m not supposed to …” He trailed off. “Well. Anyway. Let’s see if this works.”

He set the gyroscope/magnet on the stone of the road, squinted for a moment, and then set it spinning with a sharp flick of his wrist. 

Nothing.

“It’s alright,” Growlithe-Hat Boy said, shyly patting his shoulder. “It was a really good—oh!”

A crackle of sparks, a pop, and the door holding his beloved pokemon captive swung open.

“Wow,” his companion said. “I had no idea you could do that!”

“I mean, a basic understanding of electrodynamics will—”

“No, I had no idea you were so clever,” Growlithe-Hat Boy said. Viktor turned away, gathering his pokeballs back to him, holding them close. Of course he had to go and be a gigantic _nerd_ in front of the most gorgeous boy in history, now he’d be let down just like everyone else that Viktor Nikiforov was just a compulsive library lurker and absolute dork who’d happened to figure out a way to apply that mind to pokemon training and— 

“I didn’t think you could get any more amazing and then you go and save your pokemon with just a bit of wire and a magnet,” Growlithe-Hat Boy said, sounding…delighted? “I just…wow. That was brilliant. I…I’m sorry, I’m making this awkward again, I’m such an idiot, I’m just going to take Katsu and go now—”

Viktor grabbed his arm before he could run away again. “Nope, nope, nope. Can’t let you leave. I have to thank you for rescuing my pokemon!”

“Huh? No! I didn’t do anything. It was all Katsudon, I couldn’t even get the door open…”

“A pokemon is only as good as its trainer,” Viktor said. “You should know that by now, um…what’s your name? You know mine, so its only fair you tell me yours.”

Growlithe-Hat Boy looked at him, a light red blush dusting his cheeks, eyes wide behind his blue framed glasses. They were the same deep gold-russet as his vulpix’ fur. “Yuuri,” he said, very quietly. “My name’s Yuuri.”

“Yuuuri.” Viktor tried out the name, rolling the syllables around in his mouth, trying to capture the slight soft accent that curled around every word his companion spoke.

Yuuri was looking extremely flustered now. “You don’t have too—it’s not—um.” 

“That was amazing!” 

They both spun, to see the rest of the trainers whose pokemon had been stolen running towards them, the boy with the bug net in the lead.

“It was all—” Viktor began, but his protestations of his uselessness were unnecessary, as the boy ran right past him to stand in front of Yuuri, practically vibrating with excitement. “Where did you learn to move like that? Are you a gymnast?”

“I—” Yuuri began, but the boy left him no time to finish, steamrollering on as though he would die if he didn’t keep talking. And he might well, Viktor considered. The high speed chatter left little time for minor details like breathing.

“No, wait, wait, I know, you’re a dancer! I _knew_ I’d seen you before. You’re one of the Hasetsu Fire Dancers! I saw you at the Summer Festival last year—it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen—except you had a growlithe instead of a vulpix…”

Seeing the blankness that spread over Yuuri’s face—like a lake of ice about to crack in an early thaw or the shadow of the moon passing over the sun—Viktor suddenly realized why his companion must have been travelling from Lavender Town in the first place.

He held the pokeballs in his arms tighter. He couldn’t imagine the agony of losing a pokemon—didn’t want to. And a growlithe, too. Makkachin—well, if Viktor had lost Makkachin, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to take on another pokemon again. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to breathe again.

“Yes,” Yuuri said. “I did.”

He didn’t elaborate. 

“But your vulpix sure is something, huh? I’ve never seen a pokemon that fast!”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” He held out his arms for said vulpix to jump into, which—adorable. Viktor wondered if he could train Makkachin to do that. Except Makkachin was about twenty times it size, so…he’d probably have to work out a little first. “You’re a speedy little firemuffin, aren’t you?”

“Vulpiiiiix.”

“Oh, I’m not going to eat you. You’d be too spicy.”

Viktor hid a giggle behind his hand.

“Pix.”

“You can understand it?” the dark haired girl—Sara—said, sounding amazed. Her pokeballs were already clipped back to her belt, her jigglypuff safely in its own.

Both Viktor and Yuuri stared at her.

“Uh, yes?” Yuuri said. “It’s my pokemon.”

“Wow,” Bug Boy said. “I guess you’ve been training together a long time, huh?”

Yuuri opened his mouth, closed it again. He looked…embarrassed? “Yeah,” he said weakly. “That must be it.”

“C’mon Sara,” her brother said. “Let’s go. Long way ahead.”

“Oh, fine. If you’re really that worried about it. I swear, Mickey, sometimes I think you just want to make sure I don’t make friends with anyone except you.”

“I do not! I’m just worried—” 

The twins’ conversation faded slowly into the distance as they headed off. The trainer that Viktor had beaten earlier gave them one last glance and followed.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I should go too,” bug boy said, looking a little put out at the thought. “I gotta check on my eggs. They’re getting close to hatching!”

“You…should definitely do that,” Viktor said hastily, before he could change his mind and insist on spending more time monopolizing Yuuri when Viktor very much wanted to do that himself. “Eggs need a great deal of attention. And you wouldn’t want them to hatch while you’re gone.”

Bug Boy appeared horrified at the thought. Viktor…did not feel as guilty as he perhaps should have. 

“I better run! Maybe I can get as fast as Katsudon. That’d be awesome!” He turned, bug net slung once more over his shoulder.

“Awesome,” Yuuri repeated, seeming slightly dazed by the whole conversation.

“I hope I see you guys again!” Bug Boy added over his shoulder, looking thrilled at the thought. “Maybe we can battle!”

“Uh, sure?” Yuuri said.

Bug Boy beamed, and then took off at a dead sprint, careening off the road and disappearing into the forest.

The two remaining trainers stood in silence for a moment.

“So, um…” Viktor said finally, at the same time Yuuri blurted out a nervous, “I should…”

Viktor hesitated, twining his hair around his finger, spooling and unspooling the long silver strands. “You go first.”

“N…no. You can…you go first.”

“Well, okay,” he said slowly, thoughts that had been just nebulous curiosities now coalescing into a proper plan. 

Finally. 

“I was just thinking…”

“Yes?” Yuuri prompted after a moment. Shyly. Worriedly. Like he was afraid of what was coming next.

“I was thinking we should travel together!” 

He nodded decisively. Ingenious plan. Spend every day the world’s most beautiful trainer, get to know him properly, and then figure out how to win his heart. Ingenious.

“You…want to travel with me?” Yuuri said. Baffled. Disbelieving.

“Of course I do! It’s no fun travelling by myself. I mean, I’m just out here to look for…I mean, if you were heading somewhere we can go there! It’s not like I have anywhere specific to be.”

Yuuri stared at him. “You don’t—you shouldn’t travel with me. I mean, you’re you! And I’m me. I’m not…I don’t even have a single badge! I’m not…I’m not good enough.”

It was Viktor’s turn to stare. “You don’t have any badges? Well. That’s ridiculous. With how you and Katsudon work together you should have at least eight. At least.”

“I mean…I sort of just started out. And…” The words came out in a torrent, water rushing over stone, fire racing over dry brush. “I’ve never won a battle. I just freeze up—I know what I need to do but I just can’t do it and my pokemon end up paying the price because I can’t—”

“You seemed pretty effective back there.”

“Yeah, but…that wasn’t…that doesn’t count. It’s not a league match. They didn’t even have pokemon.”

An even more ingenious idea was beginning to surface from the percolating depths of Viktor’s mind. He was quiet for a moment, letting the thought settle before jumping headfirst into the deep end.

Not long, though. He’d never been very good at doing things by half.

“Well, then.” He crossed the small space between them, throwing an arm over Yuuri’s shoulders. He fit perfectly against his side, slim and soft and surprisingly warm. Viktor tried very hard not to think about that. “There’s your answer. I’ll coach you! You know, like training pokemon, but—okay, maybe that wasn’t the best metaphor. But the idea’s perfect. I’ll teach you to win battles—and you can teach me to dance! And Makkachin. I always wanted to learn. We’ll get you aaaall your badges. And then the League championship. It’ll be fun!”

“I…”

Viktor played his trump card. “You’ll have to make friends with Makkachin, of course. Very protective, Makkachin. Needs lots of belly rubs and affection to win their love.”

This, at last, had the intended effect.

“…If you really want to travel with me,” Yuuri said, tilting his head down towards the vulpix in his arms, cheeks slightly pink and eyes shining behind his glasses. “What do you think, Katsudon?”

“Vulpix.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” He looked up at Viktor, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the hand not supporting Katsudon. “I—we—would like that. We’d like that a lot.” 

“Me too,” Viktor said, beaming. The expression felt…unfamiliar, like picking up an instrument after years away from music. Strange. But good. He threw his other arm around his companion and lifted him in an excited hug. “Yuuuuuri. We’re going to have _so. much. fun._ ”

 

 

 

“That did not go according to plan at all,” Georgi said miserably, picking leaves out of his hair. His perfectly coiffed hair. _Ruined._

“Ambu—”

“Don’t even say it.”

They slunk on in silence for a moment.

“You know,” Mila began. “We _are_ supposed to be looking for rare pokemon to steal.”

Georgi gave her a sideways look. “Yes? And?”

“Well, that vulpix seems pretty rare to me. When was the last time you saw a pre-evolved pokemon pull a stunt like that?”

Her partner tapped his chin, eyes narrowed. “And without using any of its elemental attacks.”

“It’s the perfect prize.”

“…Vul…pix?”

“Oh, hello, Slowbro. Finally decided to show up, did we?”

“You missed all the action.”

Mila gazed at up at the trees for a moment, the twinges in her limbs a sharp reminder of her recent overfamiliarity with that particular part of the landscape. Thought about their boss and his unpredictable rages, and the humiliating ease of their defeat. Thought about Slowbro, always watching, always lagging, and never a part of the failure. Remembered their boss’ fondness for the insufferable creature, and his odd insistence they take it along. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

Georgi stared at her, before nodding slowly, thoughts clearly running on the same bitter lines. “You know, I think you might be right.”

 

 

 

[VIDEO] 

**Incredible Trainer and Adorable Vulpix Save Viktor Nikiforov and Pokemon From Evil PokeThieves**

Uploaded by: MiniMetapod

57K views

 

**Gyrado-si-do**

What TM did Vulpix boy get those moves from, because daaaamn

 

**Viridian Girl**

Can anyone see what VikNik is doing at 3:57? It looks like he’s messing around with wire or something, but that doesn’t make sense…I guess maybe they had to jimmy a lock or something?

 

**ratattatatataa**

Looks like VikNik’s got competition, lol

That boy is on _fire_

 

**pokefan3453**

That feel when you’re just hanging with your vulpix and you gotta save League Champion Viktor Nikiforov from some loser pokemon thieves 

 

**Charming Man Does**

That vulpix is _freaky_ fast. Like, that’s not normal, right? I’m not the only one seeing this?

 

 

Some miles away, a very angry preteen glared down at his C-Gear screen, watching the latest viral sensation with narrowed eyes. That skateboard-stealing little twerp was going to _pay_.

 

Even if he did have some pretty sweet moves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, youtube doesn't exist in the pokemon universe, and the concept of internet is shaky at best, but...hold on to your pokeballs, people, because we're going rogue.
> 
> What does the future hold for our brave heroes? Will they make it to Saffron City? Will their skateboard-less pursuer catch them first? And what, exactly, does Viktor plan on teaching Yuuri? The answer to all these questions, and more, lies ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> And so begins Yuuri and Katsudon's journey, an adventure that will lead them across the breadth of Kanto in a search for magic and victory. What dangers (and true love!) will await them? Tune in next time to find out.


End file.
